Takeaway
In the course of patient care, clinicians are often witness to powerful, emotion-filled stories. To continue to do this work, we must find ways to replenish ourselves and reach out for support when needed.
Passion in the Medical Profession | June 10, 2025 | 2 min read
By Gina Touch, PhD, University of Arizona
The British psychological crime drama, “Adolescence” portrays unchecked family history and the aftermath of a shocking crime It reminded me of a family I worked with, and the clinician I want to be.
When a family medicine colleague referred a 14-year-old boy with ADHD, the boy’s father attended the first session to let me know how far back it ran in their family. But when strategies for managing inattention didn’t relieve the boy’s intense anxiety about everything from AP classes to driving to dating, I failed to connect the dots until my colleague told me our patient was depressed and suicidal. As I searched for sources of the shape-shifting differential, his mother called to tell me it might relate to the ultimatum she once gave her husband: she would leave with their kids if he didn’t stop hitting them. He stopped, though his impact rippled, as his own childhood trauma bled into his son’s.
“Adolescence” focuses on the aftermath of a shocking crime: 13-year-old Jamie Miller is arrested for the murder of a female classmate, Katie Leonard. I was jolted by the violence of the SWAT invasion, the arrest of the boy for murder by stabbing, and then held by the intensity of the boy’s sobbing. The viewer knows that layers will unfold.
Each episode revealed not just the two sides of the story, but the backstories as well—weaving connections back and between fathers and sons, males and females, friends and bullies. Each episode told a new story and shattered hypotheses about a child’s motivation for murder. Revenge? Rejection? Social annihilation? Misogyny?
The child psychologist involved, Dr. Briony Ariston, appears in the third episode. Her role is to evaluate Jamie Miller’s state of mind and his understanding of the crime he’s being accused of, as part of preparing a pre-trial report on his mental capacity. She meets with Jamie at a youth detention facility. We witness her unwavering regard toward Jamie, even when he intimidates and mocks her. We also witness the profound impact of her “holding” this previously sobbing boy’s rage, and his raw, unprocessed traumas.
Her actions prompted me to reflect on what it means to be a healer, even in the most difficult encounters. Here are a few that occurred to me after watching the series:
1. To connect and support.
To be thoughtful and kind. To soothe and validate. To ask hard questions without judging answers. To laugh with and share what is relatable. To weave fibers of the present to sinews of family history. To build trust, the building block of relationship.
2. To be a container for others’ pain.
Pain can be expressed or hidden, received or caused. Clinicians also must seek comfort for the pain of containing.
3. To provide dignity and safety with kindness, even while absorbing the unsafe and inhumane.
4. To repair.
To open and heal wounds with tenderness. To witness what was neglected, rejected, or harmed. To minimize the suffering of others and ourselves.
To be clinically excellent, draw from what is inside, underneath, and throughout, and find people and ways to support yourself and others.
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